


Analysis

by Flustered



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Humor, Graphic Description, Humor, M/M, Soulmates, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Villains, ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 07:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13876188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flustered/pseuds/Flustered
Summary: So here is the problem.One, Black Hat believes his soulmate is dead. Two, Flug is very much alive. And three, Eldritch courting involves a little excitement.Mix that all up, you'll get a dangerous explosion just waiting to happen....A study of what Dr. Flug could be if he had part of an Eldritch soul.  Also features; Dementia with caffeine, 505 following safety standards, Black Hat dissapearing for a while, and Flug becoming his own villain.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> So, to be quite honest I have not posted or written any fanfiction for almost a year and a half and this is me tentatively poking my toe back into the water. I would really like to have some feed back on this! I know that villainous isn't the biggest fandom around, but there is a distinct lack of soulmate au's that my heart really needs.
> 
> And then the idea of Flug actually having a piece of an Eldritch soul hit me and I suddenly have to write this.

It wasn’t strange for mayhem to appear on a daily basis. In a world where people had strange powers, aliens visited, and demons ruled cities, things could get crazy at any given moment. It was just a part of life. People were used to running away. Shelters were always a thing to look up when one when on a vacation. Always be prepared to lose something. And never, ever, forget to insure.

Chaos happened. People were used to that.

But  _now?_

The boy smiled. His face hurt from stretching his mouth into an grin, but the emotions that he _felt_ were just so joyful. Never in his short life had he ever felt like this. It was like the pieces of a missing puzzle were snapped into place. The satisfaction and giddiness of finally fitting into a place that was just _meant_ for him. He couldn’t stop smiling, baring his teeth out to the world in ecstasy.

His eye hurt, but like a good kind of pain.

A woman ran past him, blood crusting on the side of her face and staining her shirt. She looked at him with wide blue eyes. He had once thought that blue eyes were pretty. Her face contorted into something he’s never seen before. It was ugly, the twist of her lips and widening of her _pretty_ blue eyes. And yet seeing that look on her face as she passed him was like he had taken a bite out of something coppery sweet. It was ugly, but it was _beautiful_. 

The boy really, _really_ liked seeing that look on people’s faces. It wasn’t just her, either. People were running everywhere. A man wearing a tie stumbled to the ground, his face darkened with soot and blood. A little girl wailed in the arms of an older child. They all had the same look. It appeared every single time somebody spotted him.

His eye burned.

The boy started to laugh. His face hurt from smiling. He walked down the street, looking at everything with darting eyes. He couldn’t get _enough_ of this. Fires were spreading, smoke and ash hung in the air. Cars were haphazardly abandoned by the side of the road. This place used to be so _busy._  And now only a few stragglers remained.

Something in the far distance went _boom_. A deep resounding noise that echoed in the boys chest. He laughed, his mouth spilling the sound out until his lungs burned and ached for him to stop. The boy only stopped to suck in the smell of burned plastic and, if he could properly describe it, _misery_. He couldn’t stop giggling.

A woman was lying in the street. Her leg was bent in an angle that was impossible. White bone poked out of the mess of blood and tissue. She was still alive, one hand pressed to her leg and another clutching at her phone. She spotted him and _there it was_. That look. The way her lips curled up and her mouth opened and her eyes shot to his face.

He couldn’t get enough of it. If it was any more possible, he would have smiled more. The lightheaded giddiness that he felt was suddenly surged with an indescribable wave of pleasure. He _liked_ this. A lot. He couldn’t wait to do it again. His fingers spasmed over the device in his hands. He had made it himself. There were bits and bobs that he couldn’t really quite understand _why_ he put them in there, he just knew that they did what he needed to do.

A plane fell from the sky.

The boy’s eye hurt.

He looked up with wide eyes, taking in every sound as the plane flew directly down. He used to make those sounds with his toy planes. His giggles reached into full on laughter as it hit the ground. Everything around him jumped with the collision. The boy loved how the earth shook. The woman started to cry with little hitches and sobs.

Oh yes. He had forgotten about her. His eyes flicked back down to her as he lowered his head. What should he do with her? He started to walk towards her.

“N-no!” She lurched backwards, her phone still tightly clasped in her hand. “Stay away from me.” She struggled to move, but evidently the pain on her face told him that she was stuck.

The boy giggled. This was even better than her expression! He reached out a hand, to do what he didn’t know, he just wanted to see what she’d do. But in one moment, she was there, and the next she was gone. All that was left was a pool of blood.

“Aw, shit. You’re just a kid.” A voice behind him said. The boy jumped and twisted around. Oh yes, he had forgotten. A man wearing a brightly colored outfit and a red twirled mustache. The man, no, the _superhero_ , looked down at him with a slightly shocked expression. “Holy shit, you’re his soulmate.”

The boy didn’t have any time to react before another one appeared. This one wore darker colors, and apparently could run at incredible speeds. He took the woman away. The new superhero took in one long glance at the boy before suddenly the boy couldn’t _breathe_.

“Rapidez!” The colorful superhero yelled. “Put him down!” The darker clad hero, Rapidez, held the boy by the throat. His knuckles white, crushing the boys windpipe.

“Can’t you see?” He shook the small boy who was gasping and clawing with one hand at his arm.

“You’re strangling a kid!”

“No!” Rapidez snapped. “I am getting rid of a monster.”

“He’s just a child.” The other pleaded. “Let go of him.”

“A child?! A child that caused this amount of destruction? We have reports of hundreds dead already. And this child is the cause of it! He’s just like the monster who marked his face.” Rapidez shook the small body.

The boy couldn’t breathe. One hand trying to dig his nails into the arm of Rapidez and the other clutching at his device. His vision was graying around the edges and painful grip around his neck was scary. A stray thought flitted through his head.

‘ _I_ _f they are going to kill me, I won’t go out alone.’_ And with the last bit of energy he could muster through his buzzing mind and burning lungs, he pressed the button on his device.

Nobody noticed. The heroes were arguing loudly, but he couldn’t understand anything that they said until finally, they dropped him. The harsh gasp filled his lungs but the burning was still there, the aching in his chest didn’t let up. He breathed hard, his palms scraped across the pavement.

Time passed in a weird way. His chest burned and ached, his neck throbbed, and his mind was fuzzy. The stinging from where he was dropped and landed on the asphalt was barely noticeable. He just focused on the fact that he could _breathe_ even though it felt like he was being crushed.

“-such a danger to us now, what would he be in ten years? Twenty? Or when he finally meets his soulmate and they decide to take over the world again? Huh? What do you think will happen then? This is the only time that we have to take him out!” The words swam through the boys head.

Everybody talked about his soulmate. It didn’t appear when he was born. It wasn’t unusual. It came in the middle of the night three months ago. His mom took him to a doctor immediately and they bandaged his face in order to hide it from the world.

That’s when he felt an itch. It started small, right behind his left eye. He was a smart kid, that’s what people around him told him often. But something changed when he woke up and his face was covered in symbols and a black hat imprinted on his face.

It was hard to _not_ know who his soulmate was.

The itch grew. It grew and festered and in the space of three months the boy began to withdraw from everybody. There was sometimes a voice that he could hear. He didn’t tell his mom, she looked so stressed. And he’d talk with it sometimes. It asked him to do things that bad guys usually did. Gave him ideas.

Three months, and his body continued to change. The color to his skin grayed in areas, his fingertips turning almost black. The unreadable words and squiggles continued to spread across his body.

Last week he started to make his device. He understood what it did, and he was surprised that it worked the first time. It did exactly what he wanted it to do.

Last week he woke up screaming and clawing his face as his eye burned.

Last week his mother left and never came back, and he didn’t even notice.

They were still arguing. Talking. What they should do with a little boy who couldn’t be more that seven years old. It was obvious that they didn’t expect anything to happen. After all, they took out the kid who caused the destruction of half of a city. They were right, in some ways. That the kid couldn’t really compete with the force of two older heroes that had their own super powers.

But what they didn’t expect was to hear a high pitched whistle, and the boy to start laughing as he laid on the pavement. They looked down at the kid still curled up from where he was dropped. He started to move shakily, and pointed his face upwards. His lips curled up, a small trickle of blood falling down his face as he laughed. His eyes were alight with madness, one blue, another a dark pit of blackness that seemed to swirl and burn.

A black hat inked on his face.

The two heroes were distracted enough that they didn’t seem to realize that the whistling sound was an airplane falling on top of them. The boy shrieked in joy as they finally noticed but in the end it was far too late for them to do anything.

Only one of them survived.

 

* * *

 

 

People are used to mayhem and chaos. But what they weren’t used to was _utter destruction_.

There was a video on the internet. It was streamed from a new site that got it from a friend of a friend who happened to be rescued on the day that the planes fell. At the time, nobody knew what was happening. There was no usual warnings or signs from any of the big major villains, and the attacks were just out of the blue.

It wasn’t until the video was discovered from an unconscious woman’s cell phone by a friend who sent it onto the National Hero Association.

It starts off with a pretty woman on the ground, her leg bleeding out. She’s saying her goodbyes. Tearful, she explains that a plane hit near her and her leg broke. She might not survive with the way that she was bleeding out. (People watch the video and they come to tears as she says goodbye. She is featured on several different host shows. “You were so brave,” they would tell her.)

Then you see her pause. She looks up, and her face is blank until it twists up in fear. A whistling is heard in the background. (“The fifth plane to hit Rock City,” a news reporter would inform the audience.) There is a moment where she presses the phone against her chest, and for a second everything is covered in her green shirt. But the camera switches, by luck or by accident, they see the boy.

They see a monster.

(“Seven years old.” They would guess for weeks. Nobody would come forwards with the identity of the kid. His background is a mystery. Or perhaps they were ashamed to come forward. Or they could have been a casualty caused by the planes.)

Brown curly hair, wearing a t-shirt that had some type of cartoon character on it, with a pair of shorts and white sneakers. Those were the normal things. The kind of things that any other kid could have.

The rest… wasn’t so normal. Black letters of a forgotten language wrapped around his arms and legs. His skin turning from peach colored to gray that slowly darkened until his hands were black. His face covered in the letters, a symbol of a black top hat under his left eye. The eye that looked more like an empty socket on a skelington. And finally, the smile. Stretched too far and looked painfully forced.

The video continued as the plane crashed, (“right into a school,” somebody would say), and the child laughed through it all. High pitched and tainted with madness. It grated on the nerves to those who watched it.

“N-no!” The woman said as the child brought his attention back to her. The video got really shaky as she tried to move as the boy walked closer to her, giggling. “Stay away from me!” He reached out his hand and-

Then the camera turned into a blur of colors and sounds. Like somebody had dropped the phone and it was rolling down a hill. And the next thing that is shown was the last known recording of the lightning fast hero, Rapidez, as he gave her to paramedics with a smile and went back.

A single screenshot of his last seen smile was used as his picture when recounting that both him, and his mentor, Glustor, had perished when the final sixth plane hit where the last known location of the child was. It took two whole days after the Rock City burned for somebody to give the child a villain name.

Deadeye _._

The media took and ran with it. It was better than saying ‘unknown child’ or, heaven forbid, ‘ _Black Hat’s soulmate_.’ Deadeye was better for both the public and for the National Hero Association. It was a name that seperated a child with a villain as a soulmate, and their own children. It created him to be a _villain_. For people to forget that he wasn’t seven years old, but he actually killed hundreds when planes dropped from the air.

Deadeye was in the news for weeks. The news of the death of Black Hat’s soulmate crept into the scourge of the city, and trickled into the cracks of society. It was knowledge that was public, and yet it was exchanged in whispers in bars and everybody always glanced over their shoulders when they spoke about it.

Citizens, heroes, and those who didn’t deal with henchmen and villains on a daily basis, didn’t understand the _implications_ that this had. They didn’t think about the ramifications that would appear. Villains ran off to their private islands or hid in their lairs, waiting with baited breath as time passed on.

Common crooks, car thieves, hell, even pickpockets knew that messing with a villains soulmate was a _bad_ thing. The way that the news kept on broadcasting the death of one most feared number one bad guy? Some shit was going to go down and nobody wanted to be out with their pants down. So they all kept their heads down low, and their families closer.

There was a streak of low criminal activity in Rock City. One might say that all of them just up and left. There wasn’t any plundering. It left a couple of heads scratched, but in the end nobody really thought of it. Tension mounted, and for the first time in recorded history, there wasn’t a single crime committed for three whole days.

Two weeks after the planes fell from sky, Black Hat _obliterated_ Rock City. It wasn’t his usual M.O. but then again, the guy had figured out that the kid everybody was talking about with venom in their voices was _actually_ his fucking soulmate and nobody can blame him. There was some shaky video footage of shadows coming to life, and a demon with red eyes coming from the darkness. Buildings were destroyed, nightmares came true, and hundreds of thousands died. There was nothing left but broken rubble when Black Hat was done.

And if there was some shaky video taken of Black Hat howling in rage, and what looked like  _tears_ on his face, nobody gave it to the fucking news.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From what he could tell, coffee was just one of those magical forces in the world that he didn’t want to experiment with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.

Flug stared longingly at the coffee. It sat there, in it’s cup, just waiting for him to consume it’s blackened putrid sludge that tastes like bitter burnt toast. His head ached beneath his paper bag, thankful that he was able to wear darkened goggles that kept the bright lights of the lab from stabbing into his brain. He was tired. It’s been too long since he had slept. His mind raced between all of the pros and cons of drinking the sludge that wanted to be consumed, and with a heavy sigh he turned away from the cooling beverage.

The couple of times that he had coffee it turned out to be a mistake. For some odd reason it caused him to shake, like the rush of caffeine was too much for his body to handle. Except Flug can remember drinking tea without any problems. From what he could tell, coffee was just one of those magical forces in the world that he didn’t want to experiment with.

“Hey Flug, you have those parts done?” The noise of a chair rolling around on it’s wheels broke Flug out of his musing. It was Gato, his fellow co-worker and henchman. Gato wasn’t necessarily his friend. Nor were they close at all, but being trapped in a workplace that had the mentality of ‘do it or you die’ gave henchmen the ability to bond to those that you’d normally wouldn’t.

“Yeah.” Flug yawned so deeply that his jaw popped.

“Thanks.” Gato nodded and scooped up the parts that Flug had spent a better part of the night painstakingly put together. Gato won when they had rock-paper-scissor to see who assembled what, and Flug sadly lost. He got the job of putting the smaller, and definitely easier to break, pieces together.

Flug took a second to lean back and stretch, his arms popping and he sighed in relief. It woke him up, but only a little bit. He yawned loudly before resuming his hunched position over the desk. He still had to work, although he’d rather be in bed. In fact, he was pretty sure out of the twenty odd-some scientists that Ire, his new boss, had taken and forced to work for her, everybody would rather be in bed.

Flug was just finishing up his first part after his thirty second break when he heard the harsh clicks of high heels across linoleum. He could hear the shuffling and creaks of chairs as people shifted their weight closer to the center of their bodies. Flug did the same. Tucking his arms as close as he could to his sides and hunching even more in hopes that Ire didn’t notice him. His fingers fumbled for the next part, his fingers clutching at a pair of tweezers.

‘ _You should kill her.’_ A soft whispered voice inside of his head said. It was smooth and velvety, even though it never grew louder than a gentle whisper. There would be times where Flug would hear it for days on end, and then it would disappear for months. But without fail, Flug shivered and a spark of joy would flare up inside of him.

Ire walked into the white room. Flug could sense her eyes trailing across the area, dissecting and inspecting. He didn’t know what exactly made the crazy German woman tick. He didn’t dare look up from his job, intently staring at the little pieces of metal as if they held the answers to the universe. Flug prayed to whatever was listening that she didn’t choose him.

Her high heels clicked suddenly as she walked into the room. It was unusual that she came into the room, she usually could find the weak-link in a matter of seconds. That meant that she was very interested in finding the perfect candidate to do her dirty job. Flug tried to limit his breathing, his eyes flicking back and forth on his desk, making sure it was all in order. Nothing was out of place. Thank goodness.

Ire stalked into the room. The tension grew as her the _click click click_ of her shoes was the only sound. Although Flug wanted to run from the room screaming, he was surprisingly calm on the outside, his hands smoothly assembling the pieces without a tremor. His heart sped up as she neared.

He remember vividly of how they first met. It was common for a villain to piss off another and for them to destroy each other, just for the fact that they had good minions. Flug got roped into being a henchman by a rather decent salesman. His first boss was rather distant, but Flug had fun doing dastardly deeds by only making the weapons for him. And then that boss was abruptly offed after Flug worked with him for a month, and within an hour his lab had been broken into and he was carried off by another villain to work for.

Flug has passed through several villains hands. Some of them were decent, others were terrible, and one had actually tried to pry the paper bag off. (Flug had killed that one. He wasn’t ashamed about it. That particular villain had an air of being new at the whole thing, and was very unprofessional. A decent boss would just order them to do something, randomly terrorised them occasionally. A decent boss wouldn’t care if Flug had a paper bag on his head because they were villains and he was just a lowly scientist.)

Ire was one of the villains that actively plans the downfall of another just for kicks. And for their henchman. (Flug was convinced that she only went after Darkshade because he had been bragging about an invention that Flug had created. Probably why she singled him out after the news of Darkshade’s death was being broadcasted on the villain radio network within minutes.) She liked to collect bright minds and they created things for her. She had different purposes every time, but mostly it was about the money. She couldn’t create a business without the top dogs who controlled the weapon selling companies noticing and crushing her to pieces. But what she could do was sell curious items and rare creations. It made for a rather interesting workload, but in the end she was his boss and she terrified him a lot.

Flug stared down at the pieces in his hands, his fingers running on autopilot as his mind raced. Ire walked closer, pausing near his desk. He could feel her eyes burning on him. He resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. The moment felt too long and the tension increased, but finally Ire moved past him. Flug let out a silent but shaky sigh of relief as she went to the next person's desk-

 _Snap_.

The sound of the metal breaking could be heard across the room. Flug stared down blindly at the small piece in his hands. He hadn’t even put a whole lot of pressure on it, and yet the fragile piece broke.

“Oh, my doctor.” Flug felt a hand gently resting on his shoulder. “Flug? Was it?” Her thick German accent coating her words.

“Y-y-yes ma’am?” Flug looked up hesitantly. His neck hurt from keeping his head down for too long. He suddenly felt a mixture of adrenaline and fear that clashed with his sleep deprived mind. The end result was his stomach twisting up and Flug was certain he could be sick. Ire looked like a normal woman, with blonde hair and tan skin. But he knew better than to think that she was normal at all.

Ire smiled, brandishing her blue pointed teeth. “I have a job for you, dock- _tor_.”

Flug didn’t tremble even though his insides were turning into a pile of mush.

* * *

 

The steps were long and roughly carved into the bedrock. Flug had to watch his step as he slowly moved downwards. In his hands he carried a tray of food. One eye carefully watching the nearly overfilled cup of coffee, and the other to gauge how tall the next step was. They were not equal in size, one could be shorter than the other and the jolt of walking down the uneven steps could make him _spill_ and that would not be good.

If Flug had enough brain power to think of impossible things, he’d wish he wouldn’t be here. Instead he let the task of getting to his destination fill his attention. All too soon he reached two double wooden doors. They were big and thick, and Flug had to set the tray down and put his back into pushing the doors open.

The room behind it was a typical torture chamber. It held all manner of things. Flug had seen them all as his time as a lacky, although he would say that Ire did make more definite use of hers more than anybody that Flug knew. After retrieving the tray, he set it on the least bloodied table. He gazed around the room, his eyes zeroing on the man strapped to a chair. A tray of bloodied tools and knives next to him.

‘ _So cliche. There should be more blood stains on the walls.’_ The voice mused. Flug wasn’t sure about the walls, they looked perfectly bloody to him. Flug took in a deep breath to steel himself before going over to Ire’s new captive. A businessman, judging by the suit that he wore. It was ripped in places, and questionable substances were caked in but Flug could tell that it was of higher quality.

As he was studying him, Flug realized with a jolt that Ire hadn’t blindfolded the man. Dirty yellow eyes glared at Flug, almost daring to touch him. She liked to keep all of her captives in the dark, but Flug also knew that she didn’t do anything without a purpose. At least he was gagged.

“Hello.” Flug nervously said, “I brought you food. I hope you like peanut butter sandwiches.” The man’s expression didn’t change, and Flug picked up half of a sandwich and very awkwardly tugged off the gag. The man opened his mouth to speak, but Flug hated when they spoke. When they begged and pleaded and tried to bribe their way out of Ire’s torture room. Flug knew that if he ever did as something as stupid as help one of her captives, he’d take their place and die pathetically. And he’d rather not do that, thank you very much. So when the man opened his mouth, Flug panicked and shoved the sandwich in there.

The man choked briefly, and glared at Flug with more venom if that was possible, and began to chew. Flug did his best to keep his mouth full, giving all that was on the plate to the man. The man begrudgingly ate, trying to eat slowly to show that he hadn’t been starving. Flug waited patiently.

‘ _You could have this man spilling his secrets within an hour. Look at those pitiful scratches, did she think she could cut him and he’d spill his secrets? Pathetic. You could do so much better.’_ The voice whispered, and this time it came with a small wave of bloodlust. Flug shuddered a little, but ignored it.

Finally, when the last piece of sandwich was consumed, Flug picked up the full cup of coffee and brought it to the man’s lips. The man took one sip and then promptly spewed it over Flug. The scientist jumped backwards, but it was too late. Coffee splattered on his paper bag, the wet paper clinging to his face in some places.

“What the fuck is that?” The man spoke for the first time, his voice raspy. He glared at Flug like it was all his fault.

“Coffee.” Flug gently set down the cup, although not as full as it had been since it had also spilled onto the floor.

“That isn’t coffee. That’s some type of poison.” The man argued back.

Flug laughed weakly. “The boss doesn’t believe in getting the good stuff for us.” If Ire thought she could get away without supplying coffee, she’d do it in a heartbeat. The only thing that stops her from doing that is that there would be a riot. Scientists are willing to work and be treated badly, but no coffee? She’d have trouble.

“Well, fuck your boss.” The man said. Flug nodded, and dragged a stool over and perched on it.

He picked up a white folded paper that Ire had slid into his hands with the whispered words, “ _if I don’t get the answers to these questions when you come back up, just do yourself a favor and die.”_ He opened the paper and skimmed over the handwriting.

“So. I have to ask you some questions.” Flug awkwardly stumbled over his words. He shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

“Hell no. I ain’t talking.” The man went back to glaring at him.

 _‘What would happen if you cut those eyes out, hmm? He’d sing like a little bird.’_ The voice murmured. Flug took in a deep breath.

“So first question! Uh, who did you sell the product to?” Flug held the note up to his face, his eyes struggling to comprehend the loopy handwriting.

“Fuck you.”

“Nice. Okay. Second question.” Flug shifted again. “Who- uh. Actually this is just the same question written over and over again. Who did you sell the product to?”

“Fuck you.”

Flug sighed, the paper around his mouth moving with the exhale. “Look. Can I just talk to you? Because I feel like we’ve hit a wall. I don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be here. And if you just answer the question, I’m sure Ire will just break a few bones and toss you out of here. You don’t have to prolong this.” Flug tried his best to sound convincing.

The man flicked his eyes to the side. “I don’t believe you.” But that didn’t sound he was sure.

Flug saw and opening and dove for it. “You think you’re the first person who's been here? I know what Ire does. I know she doesn’t like to kill at her place of work. Especially down here.” A lie. But the man didn’t have to know about it. Honestly, if this man could just answer his question, this could be the best part of his night.

“Are you sure?” The man softly spoke.

“Of course.” Flug could feel the hope bubble up inside.

“I don’t-” the man sighed, “I don’t like saying his name too loud. My buyer. You have to come closer.”

“Yes?” Flug slipped off the stool and walked nearer.

“Closer.” Flug shuffled nearer. “Closer.”

Flug leaned in over the man, waiting to hear the name. If the paper bag wasn’t in the way, their breaths would be intermingling. It was uncomfortable to be this close.

What ended up happening was the man’s skull rammed into Flug's nose. Flug jerked back, nearly falling all the way down to the blood encrusted floor. His hand flew to his face, feeling the warm sticky blood flow from his nose. He could hear the man howling in laughter.

“You honestly think that I’d be that easy?” Flug heard the man chuckle.

Flug turned away, tentatively sticking his hand further up the bag to feel his nose. It wasn’t broken, thank goodness. But it hurt a terrible amount, and the pain was making his tired brain fuzz up again. He couldn’t think easily now. Shit. The man was still laughing, but that was just background noise.

He just! Couldn’t! _Think!_ He started at the beginning of his problem. Ire wanted him to get the information. He didn’t know how long he had to get it for. But she wasn’t one to be patient when she wanted information. So he had to get the guy to spill, but he was a tough bastard. He had to think of something that would work or he’d die. Probably sooner than later.

The pain muddled with his lack of sleep. He knew he had to think but that part of his brain stubbornly remained dormant. Frustrated, Flug looked around to see what he could use when his eyes landed on the still full mug of coffee.

He hated coffee. Hated how it made him shake and tremble constantly. But what else could he do? He was just lucky at the moment to have it available. With two strides, Flug picked up the mug and lifted the bag on his face, exposing his mouth. He knew that the dark symbols inked across his skin were briefly revealed to the empty air, but he didn’t care. He downed the coffee, the cooled thick sludge making him gag several times, but Flug forced himself to finish the cup.

 _'Besides, it’s his own fault that you might shake and cut something off that you didn’t mean to.’_ The voice cooed happily. Flug hummed in agreement. Lazily he picked up a rusty jagged knife, his fingers stroking the handle. He should let go for a bit, have a little bit of fun. It’s been awhile since he’s been able to truly relax.

The man finally stopped laughing when he noticed the knife. He said something, but Flug didn’t pay much attention. He was suddenly hit with the caffeine. Ire didn’t get them the good stuff, she got the stuff that was packed with so much caffeine that a cup could keep them awake for _days_.

Flug’s hands trembled. He turned to the man, a lazy grin forming under his bag. It’s been a long time since he was allowed to make somebody _bleed_. If only he could take his time. He sighed lightly, but started to walk towards the man, the knife held ready.

Flug was thankful that this room was so far removed from the rest of the house that nobody could hear the mans screams.

* * *

 

It took him thirty minutes of leisurely taking chunks off of the man before the name was stammered out. At first Flug didn’t think that it was real. But after brandishing the knife again, and giving a few cuts, he figured that the man honestly believed in what he was saying. The name was so ridiculous. Flug wasn’t better, he knew that. Flug was a great name for a scientist. His last name, the one that he had been born with, didn’t really fit him all that well. But Flug? That was a name that people would remember him by.

Flug tossed the knife carelessly onto a table, his mind working and digesting over the answer to the question that he had wanted to know so badly. Well, it was a question that Ire had wanted to know. He picked at the word in his brain. Trying to think of when he could have heard of this person before. Had one of his last bosses mentioned such a person? Flug liked to think that he knew of all the big major players, and kept up with the local gossip. But no, everything turned up blank. Flug hummed to himself, too caught up in his thoughts to notice the sobbing that the man was emitting.

Flug wondered if this was somebody new. They probably wouldn’t last too long. Especially by pissing Ire off so early in their career. They would probably be dragged down to this very torture chamber within a week. Flug kept at picking at the name in his head. Something about it bothered him. Like he should know it, but the answer never revealed itself to him. Finally, Flug gave up. It was related to a common word, perhaps the word association made him think of something else. Still, it was a rather stupid name.

Seriously though. Who on _earth_ would call themselves Demencia?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this universe, Demencia and 505 are not Flug's experiments. They are already with BH.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't promise a time of when I can update since I have a full time job. But I will try to update as best as I can. But you know what would make me update quicker? Comments. Tell me what you love and what you don't! Thank you!


End file.
